


The Elevator's Ascent

by moonmother



Category: VIXX
Genre: Guns, Innuendo, M/M, Sex Talk, alluded to violence/death, assassin!leo, but no actual violence or death, hacker!ken, keo - Freeform, leo/ken - Freeform, over the clothes business, partners!keo, taekhwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmother/pseuds/moonmother
Summary: Jaehwan can't wait to get them both home.





	The Elevator's Ascent

Jaehwan twirls the loaded gun on his pointer finger, studying the barrel as it flashes before his face. The surface reflects the elevator’s cold overhead lighting, and it’s clean as can be, not a speck of dirt to be seen by his eyes. The grip is meant for hands bigger than Jaehwan’s, awkward in Jaehwan’s grasp whenever he wraps all four fingers plus thumb around it. But the gun isn’t his.   
  
He looks up into the elevator’s security camera and waves, knowing no one will wave back from the other side because he made sure of that not ten minutes earlier.  
  
“Stop fooling with it.”  
  
Jaehwan licks his lips, eyes flicking over to his partner. “Or, what?”  
  
There’s no reply, and Jaehwan continues to spin the gun.   
  
His partner is a man named Taekwoon. Jaehwan’s known him since the awkward, ungainly stages of puberty, and they’ve been a duo for years, too long judging by some expectations.   
  
_“It doesn’t take much, just one screw-up, for loss of life.”_  
  
Jaehwan thinks that sounds like good grounds for a closing statement at his funeral –– he looks to his left –– or Taekwoon’s; morbid speech doesn’t move Jaehwan much. Anyway. The only thing that’s changed between him and Taekwoon on their trek through the years are the guns and monetary rewards. (And, well, rewards of another nature, but that pertains more towards the bedroom.)  
  
Jaehwan pops the gum in his mouth, chewing some more and then popping again.   
  
“You can’t stay quiet for more than a minute.” The corners of Taekwoon’s mouth barely curve upward. He gets real serious when they’re out here like this, losing the toothy grin, squishy cheeks, that Jaehwan likes to see most. His posture is rigid, tense and ready, but not from nerves or inexperience –– he’s very experienced.   
  
“It’s a curse,” Jaehwan hums. He looks around the elevator, still playing with the gun. “You keep your gun so clean. Are you that proud of it?”  
  
“It’s not pride.” He rocks back and forth from his toes to heels, saying, “It’s necessity.”  
  
Jaehwan points the barrel at the side of Taekwoon’s skull. “What if I made a hole in your head?”  
  
“Then you would get my share of the reward, but at the end of it all, you’d be alone.” Taekwoon’s grin hitches up higher. “Plus, you can’t shoot a gun to save your own life.”  
  
“Can’t I?”  
  
“You can’t.”  
  
Seconds trickle by, and only when Taekwoon looks at him, eyes connecting with Jaehwan’s, does Jaehwan move the barrel parallel to his face and drag his tongue over the cold metal. It’s slow and when he reaches the tip, he kisses it, never breaking eye contact with his partner.   
  
He smiles. “I love your gun.”  
  
  
  
  
 _Freeze-frame._   
  
Jaehwan is a hacker. He’s the behind-the-scenes guy, working in the shadows, leaving invisible, digital footprints behind him. He can smash firewalls, rewrite programs, virus his way into anywhere. Usually, he tucks himself away, somewhere nice (Taekwoon call it “safe” but nowhere’s really _safe_ ; Jaehwan prefers a pretty view), and does his thing, mapping out routes and makes Taekwoon’s infiltration as pain-free as possible.   
  
Often though, Jaehwan has to come along. It’s times like these that Taekwoon laments Jaehwan’s miserable performance with firearms –– they’ve tried to practice but nothing helps –– and Jaehwan doesn’t complain because Taekwoon is the prettiest view he’s seen.   
  
It’s also these times that Taekwoon is more bunged up, coiled tight because he’s not only looking out for himself but Jaehwan as well.   
  
“I’m capable,” Jaehwan will remind him.   
  
Taekwoon’s response is to refrain from giving one.   
  
Taekwoon has spot-on aim; Jaehwan’s seen the professional shots he takes, most killing the targets instantly, but he’s far from perfect. They’ve had close-calls. Jaehwan hates the feeling of waiting for him, alone in his warehouses or rooftops or storage closets, fingers crossed but eyes always watching because _nowhere is safe_. But Taekwoon’s always come back for him, broken or not.   
  
He would drag himself back to Jaehwan’s side.  
  
Those days are the worst, Jaehwan has decided. When he sits with his knees curled into his chest, his laptop open before him. When he’s gone into company’s system and hacked the security code, passing it along to Taekwoon before he leaves. “Oh, just something special I got you for our date. Hope you like it,” is what Jaehwan would joke or something like that in the morning. He and Taekwoon don’t do dates, so Jaehwan’s made it a point to pretend that that’s what these are.   
  
Bloody and dangerous and stressful dates.   
  
Taekwoon wouldn’t have contacted him since entering the building –– which is fine. They would have run through the blueprints, and the man’s got a photographic memory. He’s always got his gun, plus an assortment of other weapons on his person; he does his job well. This would be fine.  
  
But Jaehwan knows their way of making it in the world brings their expiration date closer and closer, and he can’t help but think whenever Taekwoon leaves that this could be it. That there is no more.   
  
Neither wanted this as a way to survive –– circumstance has handed this to them as an only option. And Jaehwan tries to not delve into alternate realities, like what if they were college students, what if they could have a permanent home, or what it would feel like to walk down the street without worrying if the crosshairs weren’t settled on his back or Taekwoon’s. Long hours of solitude ask all these questions, and Jaehwan doesn’t answer any of them.   
  
Because one day –– one day –– Taekwoon’s not coming back.  
  
  
  
  
 _Real time. Elevator._   
  
The ascent is slow and steady –– Jaehwan has time. He pops his gum first and then moves so his chest brushes against Taekwoon’s shoulder, the older still standing toward the doors. Jaehwan offers the gun back, his saliva coating the barrel, and Taekwoon takes it, his steady hands only shaking slightly.   
  
Taekwoon’s taller than Jaehwan with dark hair and darker eyes, lovely broad shoulders that Jaehwan likes to walk his fingers across. He also likes to walk his fingers up Taekwoon’s flat stomach, muscled through hours of effort and sweat. The opposite to Jaehwan’s softer body.   
  
“Jaehwan.”   
  
Jaehwan’s tongue darts back out, licking from Taekwoon’s collarbone to under his ear. He leaves a shiny, wet trail. “I love you.”   
  
Taekwoon’s cheeks are hot; he’s always robbed of words when Jaehwan says that, but he finds his voice this time. “You shouldn’t have come with me.”  
  
“You’re always so clean before you go in,” Jaehwan murmurs into the shadow of Taekwoon’s jaw. “When you come back to me, you’re a mess.”  
  
“When you’re with me, you make me a mess.”  
  
“I’m speaking of the external not the internal, dear.”  
  
Jaehwan adjusts so he’s standing before Taekwoon, between him and the door. His fingers pinch at the older’s sides. “Make it through today, okay? Make it through now, and you can come back home with me, and you can fuck me.” His hand drifts lower, resting between Taekwoon’s legs.  
  
Taekwoon sucks in a breath, face exponentially more red, and hisses, “Jaehwan.”  
  
“Or I can fuck you –– I don’t care.”  
  
Morbid thoughts do nothing for Jaehwan, but it doesn’t mean they don’t keep him company. He’s always thinking of the end result –– a result where Taekwoon’s not here and he is, and it sucks.   
  
Jaehwan nuzzles his forehead against Taekwoon’s shirt, not soiled by his blood or anyone else’s. It still smells like fabric softener. “You can put me on the bed, and you can sink into me, and it will feel so _good_. Maybe I’ll ride you. How does that sound?” There’s a small whimper in Taekwoon’s throat, and Jaehwan smiles. “Sounds good, right? Maybe you’d like me to––” Jaehwan’s fingers give a dangerous squeeze, “––kiss your pretty thighs. Maybe we’ll do it all, yeah?”  
  
Taekwoon lets out a shaky breath. “I––”  
  
“Take that gun of yours,” Jaehwan outlines, “and aim it where it needs to. And then pull the trigger. Shoot. Take your gun, and do it.” He palms at the front of Taekwoon’s pants, his mouth twisting at the growing arousal on the older’s face. “Ask me what you have to do.”  
  
“What…do– do I––” Taekwoon’s shuddering; he’s trying to not be affected by Jaehwan’s touch, trying to not think about it, but it’s not working. Jaehwan chuckles.   
  
“You’re gonna have to pull the trigger. Say it.” He slings his free arm around Taekwoon’s neck, pulling him close, feeling his second hand be the only thing to separate their bodies from being fully flush with the other.   
  
“I’m…” Taekwoon’s nose is wrinkled, eyebrows scrunched, and he’s so beautiful. “I have to p–pull the…trigger.”   
  
Satisfied, Jaehwan puts the smallest of kisses to Taekwoon’s lips, another to the dip of his collarbone, and he then sinks to his knees. Both hands hold onto Taekwoon’s hips, and his mouth replaces the spot on Taekwoon’s pants, over his half-hard erection.   
  
In Taekwoon’s one hand is his gun, and the other hand is clasped over his mouth, a plea for himself to not make a single noise. Jaehwan glances up to see his face, and he presses one more kiss to the fabric of Taekwoon’s pants before getting back up. He whispers, “Do you want me, Taekwoon?”  
  
Taekwoon, hand still pressed over his mouth, eyes squeezed almost shut, nods.   
  
Jaehwan can’t stop from giggling as he kisses the back of Taekwoon’s hand, right where his mouth would be. “More later,” he promises. He never knows what he looks like to Taekwoon but, not for the first time, hopes that he looks confident and fearless in the face of the danger they confront so often. He pushes his partner away and teases, “Now focus. You have a job to do.”  
  
Taekwoon is flushed, but seems to snap back together, albeit slowly as he manually shushes the quivers running through his body, and he peels the hand away from his mouth. He clears his throat.   
  
Jaehwan watches the slow transformation as Taekwoon calms down, his gaze turning firm instead of needy as he’s no doubt smashing all the images Jaehwan painted for him. Sluggishly, the normal color of Taekwoon’s face returns with each passing second, and he’s looking more and more like the armed gunman that infiltrated this building. Jaehwan’s heart flutters.   
  
He steps back to the side, taking his spot behind Taekwoon. The elevator’s dial reads that they’re almost to the top floor, so Jaehwan reaches out and places his fingertips in a mild prodding motion on the small of Taekwoon’s back. “I trust you,” he whispers it, and that’s the only hint he will give that he’s scared.   
  
Taekwoon flinches, as if the words catch him off guard, but before he can turn to ask, the elevator dings, the lazy slide of the doors revealing a pristine hallway. This is it. Jaehwan puts pressure on his fingers, urging Taekwoon forward, and it’s time.   
  
“Let’s make it home,” Jaehwan whispers; off they go.

**Author's Note:**

> \- the original request for this fic was "assassin keo with sexual tension," so naturally i went heavy with the sexual and light on the tension   
> \- thanks for reading!


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